


Inquisition P.I. Agency

by Valvopus



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Arguing, Break Up, Casual Sex, Drinking, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Friendship, Halward Pavus' A+ Parenting, M/M, Modern Thedas, Private Investigators
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-04-30 11:18:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5161883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valvopus/pseuds/Valvopus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last thing Ferret I-told-you-not-to-call-me-that Lavellan needed was another job that didn't pay. Or a spoilt 'Vint brat depending on him to stay alive. Still at least the agency hasn't been shut down yet. Besides, what was he going to do? Hand over the mage that's being chased across Thedas by his father for more money than he has ever seen?<br/>Welcome to Inquisition P.I. Agency, with the ears to know what's going on and, courtesy of Bull's Chargers Private Security, the gun power to handle any problem that comes their way. They hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Job

**Author's Note:**

> This was a drabble I did while waiting for my beta to return a chapter for my non-AU story. It got away from me somewhat and now has a plot outline and several chapters so I figured I'd share.

It had been an unusual meeting. The first time another mage had tried to hire him, the first time he had ever met someone from Tevinter. Never mind that the man was a Magister and his presence in the room had made Lavellan’s skin itch. He’d had to open a window, definitely for the breeze though, he hadn’t been planning to dive through it if things went badly. That would be ridiculous. Resisting the urge to flee had paid off though. Or might, provided he could find the son. Not that he would struggle with that, there were only so many places in Ferelden a mage could be. When he considered the photo that he had been left, no man that groomed would be used to hiding and blending in, the list grew shorter still. Lavellan leant back in his chair one foot on his desk for balance as he scrolled through his phone contacts. There was probably no need to get the Chantry involved, he would only need to think the words blood mage near them and the whole thing would descend into chaos within seconds. Besides, there was something, _off_ about Magister Pavus’s story.  Decision made he hit the call button,

“Varric, I need a favour.”

 

Between Varric’s information and Sera’s friends it had taken little over a day to find Dorian.  The mage, it was hard to think of him otherwise when the man was constantly casting spells, had a job at Redcliffe Library. Assistant Librarian, hired four months ago when the previous worker retired and besides being overly opinionated about some of the reference material. He was using a false name of course but the facial hair hadn’t changed.  Lavellan visited, watching as the man arrived at work. He was charming, especially to his coworkers who seemed mostly unswayed except from an exorbitant amount of blushing. He kept watching as a few minutes later a second man entered and picked up a random book which he could pretend to read while watching Dorian. Lavellan liked to think that when he had done the same thing only minutes earlier he had been more subtle, the man hadn’t even pretended to look at the titles when choosing his book, but either way Dorian seemed oblivious. Lavellan finally gave up on _Ferelden: Folklaw and History_ when just after midday the mage rushed off to lunch, cursing the whole time about being late, met up with another man who Varric informed him was called Rilienus. Lavellan resisted the urge to ask the other man tailing Dorian if he wanted to share a table,  then after returning to the library to read yet more riveting propaganda churned out by the Chantry followed Dorian as the man trudged home. Lavellan tried not to be disappointed in the lack of demon summoning from the apparent blood mage, the routine held for most of a week. Lavellan had almost been convinced to pay one of Sera’s friends to follow Dorian for him before the rather interesting day that he skipped his lunch date then left work early feigning a headache.

 

Dorian didn’t go home though, he made his way across the city before slipped quietly into a hotel. He was more suspicious of his surroundings than Lavellan had grown used to, checking behind him as he walked, looking for people following. He kept it up even in the hotel lobby, eyes freezing on Lavellan for a second before moving on to scan the room for something. Lavellan considered following when the man ventured further into the hotel but there was no way he wouldn’t be noticed if he walked in the bar. Even if Dorian himself didn’t notice that it was the same elf, any elf in such a place would have somebody asking questions. Not ideal for surveillance. He tapped out Vivienne’s number quickly, cursing the whole time.

“Yes dear? I am rather busy.”

“There’s a hotel I need to get into without being noticed.” Lavellan heard the sign on the other end, purposefully audible,

“Very well, give me the details and I’ll tell them to let you borrow whatever uniform the serving staff wear. Though I expect you to explain why I am doing this for you at some point.”

“Thanks.”

 

A few minutes later there another elf hurried over to him and pulled him into the kitchen piling shirts in his arms. Lavellan almost laughed when the elf produced a mask,

“Orlesian owners, the front of house staff have to wear masks.” Lavellan nodded pulling the mask on, a terrible fit but it hid his vallaslin without him needing to put on any horrible cake-y make up so he could forgive that.

“Tie your hair up.” The kitchen worker hissed as Lavellan hurried from the room. He nodded gratefully then jammed his hair up into the ridiculous had he had to wear.

 

The bar was mostly empty, Dorian was fidgeting at the bar, half empty wine glass in one hand, phone in the other. Lavellan grabbed a cloth from the bar and moved quickly to the tables in the corner, no one noticed an elf cleaning. Except Varric it turns out. He sauntered into the bar a shit eating grin on his face,

“Well, that’s a smart uniform.” Lavellan clenched his jaw,

“Orders at the bar, ser.” He glanced around, Dorian was engrossed in talking with the bartender, “ _who told you I was here dwarf?”_ Varric laughed pulling out a phone to snap a photo of Lavellan before the elf could react,

“Sera knows someone in the kitchens, thought that’s how you got in.” Lavellan shook his head,

“Vivienne knows the owners. I should have thought of Sera.” Lavellan moved to wipe another table while Varric went to order himself a drink. It could have been worse, at least none of them had photos from when he’d needed to follow a Teyrn into a brothel. It was probably time he hired a human to go into these places, though that would require money which, if this job went the way he was beginning to suspect it would, wasn’t not going to coming any time soon.

 

Finally Rilienus arrived, sitting next to Dorian and chatting idly in such a casual manner that it would clearly be completely ludicrous to suggest anything more was going on between them. Obviously, how could anyone _ever_ think to suggest there was something scandalous going on? The pair did manage to slip out of the bar at the same time though. Lavellan cursed as the elevator opened and they stepped in, he rushed forwards and slipped in to it with them. The seventh floor button was lit, he pushed the sixth button quickly. Lavellan was acutely aware of the silent surprise of the two men,

“Apologies sers, servants elevator is down for repairs.” An easy lie. Rilienus snorted.

“That’s what stairs are for.”  Dorian remained thankfully silent on the subject until the elevator lurched to a stop and Lavellan stepped out. He stepped around the corner, waited for the doors to close then rocketed himself up the stairs emerging from the stairwell just as Dorian and Rilienus reached their room. There was some fumbling with the lock, it was Lavellan imagined, hard to manage a key when your other hand is that occupied. Finally they burst into the room and the door slammed behind them.

 

Lavellan walked up and down the corridor as he waited for one of them to emerge. Varric had found him after a few minutes and agreed to hang around and follow whoever left later. So now he would wait, and try not to overhear too much. The second part of that was proving more difficult. Alright, it was impossible. Lavellan had tried humming quietly but it was distracting. Did the hotel realise that these rooms weren’t soundproof at all? Not to elves at any rate. Then again, that would make it easier to gather blackmail material on the guests.  Maybe he could bill somebody for this ‘trauma of being duty bound to listen in on a stranger’s sex session’. Probably wouldn’t fly with Magister Pavus but surely Varric would give him free booze while he recited the whole mortifying incident. Though he would then need to relive it in Varric’s next book, the dwarf would not miss the change to get some new material for books. Finally, _thank the Creators_ , the noises stopped. Lavellan hurried back to the stairwell. He text Varric to let him know that they were back to work and waited.

 

Lavellan followed Rilienus, back to the hotel lobby where he met a man who screamed Magister then was led, rather forcefully, back to the bar. It was busier now, no way he would get away with pretending to be a server. He hurried through to the kitchens abandoning the uniform and stepping back into the bar. He would have slipped off to the van to grab his staff but that would probably have been overkill. As it was he strode through the tables noting the quiet murmurings of the patrons as he passed. He made certain to glare at the ones whose gaze lingered too long. Varric let out a low whistle as he reached the booth and slid in opposite Varric,

“Your Keeper would be proud Ferret, you really got that looking down on everyone but other Dalish thing down before you left.” Lavellan gave a small smile eyes wandering around the room.

“Now now Varric, Dalish have no problem with dwarfs.” He let his accent lilt slightly over the words. Focusing in on Rilienus, his tan skin looked pale, sickly. “He doesn’t look happy.” Varric sipped at his drink,

“Other guy is Livius Erimond. Crossed the border last week, same time as the father. One of the Chargers said he might be a bounty hunter but it’s sure.”

“Know anything about him?” Varric shrugged,

“Not much, Imperium is being unusually quiet.” Lavellan snorted slightly,

“How is that unusual?”

“Well this Dorian is supposed to be a blood mage right?” Lavellan nodded, “Well, rumour in the Imperium is that his father dragged him from a fairly intimate sleepover. He isn’t seen for three months and then the father stops coming to the Magisterium. Looks like Dorian arrived in Ferelden a few weeks after that.” Lavellan nodded, he couldn’t hear what being said to Rilienus over the music and Varric’s story.

“Ferret?” Lavellan shot his attention back to Varric,

“Sorry, trying to work out what we do now.”

“Not get paid I’m guessing.” Lavellan chuckled and pulled out a phone to take some photos. Movement through the doorway caught his eye and he nudged Varric,

“Think Dorian just left.” Varric cursed and jogged from the bar to the lobby. The bar’s attention turned back to Lavellan, _hey look an unsupervised elf_. He picked up the last of Varric’s whiskey and drained it, this was going to be a long afternoon.


	2. The Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian comes face to face with Ferret and realises just how close his father is to dragging him home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually the first chapter I wrote then decided I wanted to write about Ferret sneaking around following Dorian so that because Chapter 1. Anyway here's Chapter 2.

Dorian dropped his shirt on the floor as he trudged his way from his front door to bed, logically he knew there wouldn’t be someone round the next morning to clear his discarded clothes away but he was too tired to care about the state of his apartment. He almost fell into his bed relishing the Orlesian silk on his skin, one of the first thing he had bought, before he realised that he would have to be more careful with his meagre pay check from the library. Dorian was almost asleep when he heard the knock on his door, quiet and measured. Dorian rolled over, no one he knew would come to his residence, he hadn’t told anyone where he lived, well besides Rilienus but he had seen the man only a few hours before. That only left his neighbours and how urgent could it be? More likely they had heard him slip into the building and decided to grace him with their unwelcome presence. Another knock, more urgent this time,

“Dorian Pavus, I need to speak with you and I am not above breaking in.”

 

Dorian felt his muscles tense. He hadn’t given anybody his last name, not since his father had found him in Nevarra. He scrambled from bed grabbing his staff from underneath as he scoured the room for his discarded clothes. He’d let his guard down, when had he stopped keeping all his documents in a bag? There was a click at his door, Dorian pulled up his trousers grip tightening on his staff as an elf shoved their head into the apartment. They scanned the room quickly before holding Dorian’s gaze,

“Sorry about this,” the elf slipped into the room carrying his own staff and locked the door. “Normally I would have written or at least waited for you to answer the door but there isn’t time.”

“My father sent you.” A statement, though Dorian had been expecting more than one person. Or at least a large human, not an apologetic elf with facial tattoos. The elf hurried across the room to the window and closed the curtains,

“No, well yes but that’s not why I’m here. You’re in danger,”

“Yes I gathered that when a crazy elf broke into my apartment!” The elf turned to him, Dorian realised how loud his voice had been. His neighbours might have heard, maybe they would investigate and he could slip away. 

“I know how this looks, you saw Rilienus earlier at Hotel Masque?” Dorian opened his mouth but the elf interrupted him, “Don’t bother, I know you did. After that he saw Livius Erimond.” The elf glanced to Dorian before shaking his head, “You went to the Vryantium circle together for a few years, not really important. Anyway, there’s a bounty on your head for anyone who can bring you back to Qarinus and he intends to collect it.” Dorian shook his head slightly,

“Rileneus wouldn’t have.”

 

The elf sighed and pulled out a camera from his bag. He fidgeted with it for a few seconds before stepping close to Dorian to offer it to him. Photo after photo of his lover Rileneus talking with another Tevinter mage that he vaguely recognised.  
“Why? How do you have these?”

“I’m a private investigator. I was hired to find and follow you.” Dorian pulled himself back from the elf, suddenly aware that he was being foolish. He levelled his staff at the elf, dropping the camera which bounced on the corner of his side table before shattering on the floor. Good, evidence destroyed. The elf looked down at it sadly,

“So my father hired you and what? You’re trying to make sure you get the reward rather than anybody else?”

“What? Creators no! Fenhedis lasa, I have no intention of telling your father anything. Clearly what he told me was a lie” Dorian snorted,

“You expect me to believe that?  You were following me! You were at the hotel and the library I knew I recognised you!” He had _known_ , seeing a Dalish elf in the library had been a surprise but seeing another in the same day with the same tattoos had made him wary. Then he’d been stupid and dismissed it, telling himself it was just paranoia.

“Your father said you were a crazy blood mage, I was making sure you weren’t a danger. Then I realised there were other people after you. I just thought I should warn you.” A blood mage? Of course, his father would accuse him of a crime Dorian had been the victim of.

“Warning received, get out.” The elf’s face dropped. Dorian wasn’t convinced his ears didn’t droop slightly.

“I was just trying to help.” Dorian glared at the elf who held up his hands, “I’ll leave, just,” he glanced around before pulling a phone out of his pocket and offering it to Dorian. “If anything does happen call any of the numbers in there and ask for Lavellan.” Dorian folded his arms, the elf, Lavellan presumably, frown slightly placed the phone on the floor and backed out of the apartment. Dorian  kept his staff gripped tight as he hurried to the door, locking it. The phone caught his eyes, it was in his hands in seconds body moving without thought he threw it against the wall where it shattered. Dorian let out a deep breath, it was time for him to leave.

 

Dorian had his bag packed and by the door when he heard the knock at his door. Dorian froze, eyes straying to the broken remains of the phone that Lavellan had left. The knock came again, more urgently,

“Dorian?” Rilienus’s voice came from the door. It was strained, almost forced. “Come on Dorian, I locked myself out of my apartment.” Dorian stepped towards the door then hesitated, showing up in the middle of night was not out of character for either of them but it would normally involve either a large quantity of alcohol or a polite phone call to check the other person was at least in and not entertaining other company. A third knock,

“Dorian please, I know you’re in there.” Dorian stepped away from the door, the urge to run growing in his legs. He forced a slow breath and moved back to the bedroom grabbing his bag. Why had he broken the damn phone? He picked up the remains before realising it was useless and dropping it again. The bright blue sim card seemed to glow slightly against the cheap broken plastic. Dorian scrambled trying to block out the pounding on the door. He slipped it into his own phone. The phonebook had lots of numbers, lists of numbers rather than names. Dorian took a breath and selected the fourth one on the list, a local area code.Dorian hit call.

 

“Shit Ferret you’d better have a good reason for calling at this hour and losing the handcuff keys doesn’t count.” Dorian hesitated for a minute, “Ferret? You there? Come on Lavellan, you know I’ll dig out a spare key if you really need one.” Dorian barked a small laugh, fighting the nerves that threatened to cut out his power of speech at any moment,

“No actually, I was told to call from this phone if there was trouble. My name’s Dorian,” Dorian paused for a second,

“Ah shit, forgot he was supposed to be sorting that out tonight. I’ll let our elusive leader know, you just sit tight.”

“Sit tight? There are people knocking on my apartment door who want to drag me back to Tevinter.” A chuckle,

“You want me to climb through the phone and come babysit you? There’s people on the way just try to stay out of the way until they get there.”

 

‘They’ arrived a few minutes later. There was a clunk sound from his window and a blonde elf squeezed in,

“You’re the runaway Magister right? Sera. We’re going out that window in a couple of minutes, you need anything else?”

“I’m not a Magister, I’m,” Sera waved her hand dismissing his words,

“Mage from Tevinter, Magister, it’s all a load of piss. You got stuff or what?” Dorian nodded picking up his bag and staff,

“I, ah, thank you.”

“S’alright yeah? Just don’t go all mage-y on me and we’re good. Otherwise, bullet in the face” Dorian started to nod, eyes straying to the guns clipped to her belt, when he heard a scream from the corridor, then bullets.

“Time to move.”

Dorian was barrelled into a van in the alley below his window. He tried not to notice the bodies that were stacked neatly in the van with him. Sera started the engine then flew onto the road and accelerated away.

 

They stopped after around ten minutes, a quiet side street that Dorian glanced around suspiciously. There was no way they weren’t going to be noticed, the only vehicle on a fully lit street they were asking to be noticed. Sera didn’t seem concerned though. She stepped around Dorian to open the back of the van giving one of the bodies a kick on the way.

“Friggin’ arsewipes. Wrecking people’s lives just for a bit of coin.” Dorian followed Sera out of the van looking around them at the quiet streets around them, how long would it been until his father send more men?  
“Yes well, I should probably get going before anybody else decides I should be returned home against my wishes.” Sera looked shocked,

“What you’re not going to stick around? Think Lavellan wants to talk if you wait a few minutes.” Dorian swallowed, no doubt talking would require payment of some kind for their little rescue mission. Possibly even enough to match his father. That would be an issue, even if he maxed out his credit limits there was no way that would be enough. Especially after how he had treated Lavellan when they met, and the fire power that had been needed to get him out of there.

 

A battered pick-up pulled up across from the van and Lavellan hopped out wearing a deep green coat and carrying his staff. Blood was spattered over him but didn’t cover the grin he was wearing. Dorian found himself returning the smile for a split second before a giant Qunari emerged from the jeep,

“Boss I told you, explosive rounds. ‘Vint’s didn’t know what hit ‘em.” Lavellan let out a chuckle,

“Oh I’m sure they noticed the giant Qunari. You aren’t exactly subtle Bull. Get rid of the van?” The Qunari shrugged before heading to the van letting out a whistle as he looked in and saw the bodies, he turned to Dorian,

“They really wanted you back, huh?” he climbed into the van and took off before Dorian had answered.

 

“Sorry we’re a bit late, we had to take Rilienus to the hospital.” Dorian turned back to Lavellan, the elf was twirling his staff in lazy circles, “He’s alive, just a bit of shrapnel damage. It looked like he wasn’t helping voluntarily if that makes any difference.” Dorian nodded mutely, it didn’t change things now, he could hardly visit the man in hospital but at least he hadn’t been betrayed.

“Thank you for this.” Lavellan bowed his head in a small nod revealing tattooed eyelids,

“It’s what I do. Well this and spy on people I suppose. You get everything you need from your apartment? I wouldn’t recommend doing back there, if anybody who was looking for you didn’t know where you live they will by the time the police finished.” The police, of course they would be involved, and find the apartment under a false name. They’d probably send Seekers to his job too and once they learnt that he was actually the son of a Magister there would be no going back there.

 

“You okay Dorian?” Dorian snapped his focus back to Lavellan,

“Sorry. Yes I have what is important. I, unfortunately find myself not currently able to compensate the expenditure of such a level of assistance on your part.”

“He what?” Lavellan levelled a gaze at Sera,

“He means he can’t pay us.” Sera burst into laughter behind him,

“Knew it. Bull owes me five silvers.”

“I assure you I will give you what I can but," he had no plan, "kaffas.” Maybe he could run. There were only two of them, if he took the pick-up and if he could get to the train station and then, he’d be stuck because he left the travel permit from the Embassy in his apartment and there was no way they would let a mage travel to Orlais without it. Maker, they were going to ship him back to  wrapped in a bow. He thrust out his staff,

“Here take it, it must be worth something. I have some credit cards and there’s some books in my apartment that could be sold. I can give you the titles and then I’ll be out of your way.” Lavellan chuckled then pressing Dorian’s outstretched hand back to him, staff with it,

“Dorian, please stop. No one is expecting you to pay us for this. We’ll sort out what you’re going to do next in the morning. After we’ve all had some sleep.”

 

Dorian sat next to Sera in the pick-up as Lavellan drove them through the city. Lavellan hadn’t listened to Dorian’s protests of how _unnecessary_ it was for Lavellan to find him somewhere to sleep. Whether he had realised Dorian had no place to go or legitimately wanted to make sure Dorian was safe, Dorian wasn’t sure. Either way he was now apparently going with them with Sera asleep and drooling on his shoulder.

“If she’s bothering you just wake her up.” Dorian manoeuvred his shoulder slightly while Lavellan glanced between him and the road. They had left the parts of the city Dorian new and were now rolling through dimly lit roads lined with warehouses and the occasional apartment building. Broken, boarded up windows were a recurring feature.

“Seriously, she won’t care.” Dorian lifted a hand and tilted Sera’s head the other way so she drooped towards Lavellan.

“I unfortunately broke the phone you gave me. You can have mine to replace it?” Dorian remembered suddenly pulling it from his pocket, Lavellan changed gear making the van judder as he turned into a small alley,

“Nah, I have another. How’d you think Varric was able to get hold of me?”

“I should really thank him for getting in touch with you. I believe I woke him up.” Lavellan smiled slightly eyes crinkling slightly as he pulled into a car park.

“He’ll probably show up at the office tomorrow, you can thank him then if you want.”

 

Lavellan managed to rouse Sera long enough to heave her onto his back and lead Dorian to the elevator.

“You might as well hole up in my apartment for the night. We can sort out something else in the morning but I’ll need to speak with Josie and Cullen to work out what’s safe.” Dorian nodded blankly, at this point there was little point in arguing about where he slept. The corridor was narrow and looked like it hadn’t been redecorated since the last age. Dorian fought the urge to grimace as Lavellan stepped over a passed out dwarf and gave a shrug and an apologetic smile. The apartment he had been led to was, clean. That much Dorian could tell. It was in a better state than the rest of the building no doubt, despite the cramped space.

“Bedroom is straight through, locks from the inside so don’t worry about anyone bursting in on you. Bathroom is the other door.” Lavellan dropped Sera on the sofa looking slightly embarrassed,

“I should probably have dropped you off with Varric, his place doesn’t have that condemned building feel. Everything is clean at least.” He suddenly felt very guilty about smashing Lavellan’s camera earlier that day; the look that had passed over Lavellan’s face when it hit the floor had been strange at the time but then no one lived in a place like this by choice. A small part of him vowed to replace the gadget before he left. And the phone. It was nowhere near enough to make them even but it was a start.

“This is more than adequate, I dare say I would be somewhere much worse if you hadn’t have intervened. Thank you.” Lavellan’s mouth twitched into a smile.

“Night then Dorian.”


	3. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phase 2 of keep Dorian safe begins, now with added dwarf.

Heavy thuds at the door woke Lavellan.  
“Inquisitor, I know you are in there. Stop hiding..” Lavellan pulled his head up from the sofa, the room was empty. Sera had left at some point, it couldn’t be too ridiculously early then.  
“Charming.” Lavellan pulled himself up and, after a moment of deliberation stripped of the shirt he had been wearing the night before. Partial nudity aside, it would be harder to deny his involvement while spattered in blood.  
“Cassandra, what brings you here so early? I definitely haven’t blasphemed yet today.” The Seeker huffed before shoving into the door knocking Lavellan back as she stepped into the apartment.  
“I take it you are responsible for the mess in Redcliffe?” Lavellan shrugged crossing his arms over his chest, Creators it was freezing,  
“Responsible might be stretching it.”  
“Talk.”  
“Bounty hunters from the Imperium. They attacked first.” Cassandra raised her eyebrows,  
“Bounty hunters? Why were they here? I take it you are protecting whoever they are after.” Lavellan shrugged, if they didn’t know then he wasn’t going to tell them.  
“Not sure, I was looking for a new apartment in that building. Next thing I know they take offense that I have pointy ears and I’m defending myself.”  
“Cullen tells me that there was magic used there. With the exploded bodies the Chantry and Templars have taken notice.” Lavellan glanced around at a small sound from the bedroom, he hoped that Dorian would realise that this was not the time to appear. It wasn’t like he couldn’t hear what was happening. The paper thin walls probably meant half the building could probably hear what was being said, the rest would still be asleep.  
“I had Bull with me. He had explosive rounds to get through the barriers. Should anyone attack us while using barriers. Just in case.”  
“You just happened to be fully armed while looking for someone to live?”  
“This is Bull we’re talking about.”  
“That is a poor excuse, even for you. I take it you won’t be turning over Dorian Pavus?” Lavellan bit the inside of his cheeks slightly to stop himself from smiling,  
“Who? You know how I am with names, and faces and really any useful details.”  
“You’re worse than Varric. Cullen wants a statement. Mage Liaison will be in touch too. If your new friend wants to collect anything from the apartment I recommend waiting until it gets dark.” Lavellan nodded,  
“Thank you Seeker, I’m sorry this has made a mess for you.” Cassandra’s eyes narrowed for a second,  
“Be careful Lavellan, he is of Tevinter. There will be trouble.” Lavellan smiled widely,  
“That is what I’m here for,” he dropped into a deep bow smirking up at her.

**

Dorian shuffled around the cluttered bedroom as quietly as he could manage. The room was stuffed with books and folders, stacks lined the walls leaving a narrow path from the door around the bed. Narrow by elf standards; Dorian barely fit into the space, provided he turned sideways. The bed on the other hand, that was almost as large at the one Dorian had at in Qarinus. Definitely lower quality but every bit as comfortable as he remembered it. The sirens that had woke Dorian wailed through the tiny window with an alarming regularity. Idly Dorian picked a book of the nearest pile and flicked through it, elven. The folders were filled with tiny neat script in the same language. There did seem to be a few titles in common tongue spaced through the piles but Dorian had spent enough time in his days at the circle to know pulling any of them would result in at least one tower of books collapsing. 

He could hear Lavellan speaking to a Seeker at the door. Dorian was surprised that the elf was on first name terms with a Seeker but maybe he shouldn't have been, after all it seemed there was a Qunari on call. A Qunari with explosive rounds. Dorian heard his voice and his heart sank. She knew, which meant his father knew. There was no way Lavellan would take that risk, still for now the elf denied any knowledge about Dorian and after a few terse exchanges the door closed. Dorian rolled over the bed to the door and unbolted it, there was nothing he would gain from hiding in the room. If Lavellan, he tried not to dub the elf Inquisitor as the Seeker had done, was about to hand him over then sitting in a room which was a giant fire trap with no escape route was not the thing to do. He fixed his most superior expression, tightened the grip on the staff and quickly opening the door, he strode out.  
“I must say I wasn’t expecting,” Dorian’s mouth stopped working momentarily. Lavellan was leaning against the sofa, back to Dorian. Dorian tried not to stare as the elf braided his long blond hair, he almost managed to avoid watching as the movement of Lavellan’s arms shifted muscles in the elves back. He would vehemently deny tracing the deep green lines that arched over the elf’s shoulders. What had made him actually stop talking was the thick patches of scar tissue that sat on his lower ribs. Gunshot, his mind supplied. There were other marks too, they looked suspiciously like bite marks though stretched and distended over the elf’s skin. Whatever animal made them had clearly been trying to rip the elf apart.  
“What,” Dorian managed to stop himself from asking what happened but not before the first word escaped. Lavellan glanced round then ducked his head abandoning the braid,  
“Abalas, sorry. Give me a second.” Lavellan hurried towards Dorian sliding past where he stood in the doorway. Dorian tried not to register the warm fingers that brushed over his hip as the elf skirted round him before dropping to a crouch to pull a perfectly folded dark t-shirt from beneath his bed and shoved it over his head.  
“Didn’t think answering the door in a blood stained shirt was a good move. How are you doing?”

Dorian pushed himself away from the doorframe, remembering why he had been leaving the bedroom in the first place. He was smarter than this, one shirtless elf should not have distracted him that much.  
“Better than I would have if you hadn’t shown up last night I have no doubt. I should leave, you have my gratitude.” The elf looked confused,  
“Leave?”  
“Well yes. You helped me last night something for which I am immeasurably grateful. It would hardly be polite to impose on you further.” Lavellan frown,  
“How about this, we eat something and then go find Varric so you can work out what your options are. If you can come up with a plan and want to leave then no one is going to stop you leaving.” Dorian nodded slightly,  
“And if this plan doesn’t materialise?” Lavellan shrugged,  
“We’ll figure something out.” 

Varric, it turned out, was a dwarf. Dorian didn’t know why he was surprised at this point. Lavellan had led them from one tavern to the train station without much explanation. The Herald’s rest lay in what Dorian hoped was the less desirable part of the city they had arrived in. Dorian’s eyes flickered through room noting it was mostly empty bar the man behind the bar eying them suspiciously. Dorian still wasn’t sure entirely what Lavellan’s business was, let alone what a Dalish was even going in a city, but it so far he hadn’t seen the elf pay for anything, instead, knowing looks and nods seemed to grant them both free travel and food. 

Lavellan was passed an envelope form a woman which he shoved into a pocket without looking at it as he headed up the stairs. The elf didn’t bother to knock as he opened the door and dropped dramatically onto a sofa. The dwarf didn’t look up from his desk,  
“Please Ferret make yourself at home. I swear you’re worse than Hawke.” Lavellan grinned at the comment and glanced back at Dorian who found himself standing awkwardly in the doorway,  
“He loves me really,” Varric sighed and closed the laptop he had been typing on,  
“You can’t be saying things like that. Bianca will get jealous.” Dorian shuffled his way into the room and perched on a low chair. He would hear them out then leave, it was already well into the afternoon.  
“His rifle.” Dorian felt Lavellan’s gaze on him,  
“Pardon?”  
“Bianca, Varric’s sniper rifle. ” Dorian nodded uncertainly, the room was small, too small for him to fight in if he needed to. Were the elf’s words a message of some kind? A warning not to run?  
“I see.” Varric chuckled,  
“What? Our dear Inquisitor’s hospitality leave you a little on edge? I thought you were going to play nice Ferret.” Lavellan looked mildly offended,  
“I did. Even went to The Maiden for food before we came here.” That was true. The murderous looks Dorian had received on entering The Singing Maiden had died down significantly after Lavellan announced Dorian was with him. It was still one of the more uncomfortable meals Dorian had eaten. Especially after making the mistake of asking what was in the meat stew.  
“Well I owe Sera then. Bet they’d try to stab you if you went back there.” Lavellan shrugged,  
“I explained it was a cultural difference.” Varric snorted,  
“Yeah the Dalish find it completely acceptable to never pay for a drink and still complain about the quality.” Lavellan smiled,  
“Oh no, we don’t make alcohol that leaves you able to argue afterwards.”  
“Yeah because you wouldn’t be coherent enough. Daisy passed some on from her clan. Hawke and I didn’t even last the hour.” The look Lavellan gave Varric was entirely too innocent.  
“Must have been a weak batch.”

“So basically my father has everyone who would take money from a Magister looking for me and I can’t cross the borders to get away. Kaffas.” Dorian had started pacing. Lavellan watched for a minute before deciding he had nothing to contribute to the situation and grabbing a book from Varric’s desk. Swords and Shields, knowing that Varric had been chased through the streets by Aveline for basing a character on her almost made up for the sappy romantic dribble. He lasted a few pages reading something about marigolds before getting bored. He looked up from the book, a question that had been lingering for several days coming to mind,  
“Why does your father want you back?” Dorian dropped him a look of surprise, though there was a fair amount of fear mixed in. He frown quickly a neutral mask fitting back in place,  
“We disagreed over my choices. I wouldn’t play the dutiful son, marry the girl.” He was lying. Or at least twisting the truth somehow. Lavellan turning his gaze back to the book,  
“Mm, just seems a bit excessive,” Lavellan raised his eyebrow’s slightly as he turned a page, “An argument doesn’t normally requires bounty hunters.”  
“It wasn’t just-“ Dorian froze, catching himself. He glared at Lavellan, “Why did you leave your clan?” Varric stood up,  
“Ah Sparkler, perhaps that’s not the best,” If Dorian did hear the warning in Varric’s words it went unheeded,  
“No. Since apparently we’re asking personal questions. I thought Dalish didn’t like civilised society. Clearly you agree with that sentiment and yet you’re here without them.” Lavellan skirted the question,  
“I saved your life.”  
“Exactly! I am in the debt of someone who seems to have been in the habit of fighting wild animals at some point. I have a right to be concerned about who I owe.”  
“Yes because I should be your main concern here.”  
“Vishante kaffas! No I’m going to ignore how suspicious this whole situation is. No one sees a Dalish elf without a clan, why are you here.”  
Lavellan bit the inside of his cheeks before responding, forcing a slow breath out,  
“They’re all dead.” 

That comment was followed by an hour of awkward silence interrupted by some creative cursing - mostly Lavellan, and clumsy attempts at apology - all Dorian. Finally Varric gave up on the pair and declared himself arbiter. It wasn’t that the mage had brought up Lavellan’s clan as if there could be a pleasant reason he had left. It was the damn attitude, they were was trying to help and Dorian couldn’t even bring himself to be honest about what was going on.  
“I hate to say it Sparkler but leaving would probably leave you ass deep in demons.”  
“So what? I wait here for them to kill me? That’s generally the last option rather than the first.” Varric shrugged,  
“I was thinking you stay here and help us and we make sure no one drags you back home to daddy.”  
Dorian was silent for a while,  
“That is generous, don’t misunderstand but I would hate to be a burden on strangers.”  
“Look, we need someone who understands all the Imperium bullshit. No offense Ferret but we both know you took those documents to Krem to translate.”  
“I did not.” He had sat about in Bull’s office for hours cursing at the document in three languages until Krem took pity on him and translated the contract without being asked. The look Varric levelled at him told Lavellan he knew exactly how much trouble that case had been for him. Lavellan sighed.  
“He isn’t staying in my room Varric.” Lavellan glanced to Dorian, “I didn’t spend all the money I have on a bed to spend the foreseeable future sleeping on a sofa.” Dorian nodded his face carefully blank,  
“I understand, I imagine there’s a village around here that I can disappear into while I work out how to get to Orlais.” His tone almost matched his face but there was a defeated edge to it.  
“Fenedhis, I didn’t mean that. You should stay, you’d be useful and I didn’t save your life last night for you to get caught tomorrow. Just, if you do stay it won't be with me.” Dorian looked lost for a second. Varric cleared his throat quietly,  
“That's probably a civil as he's going to get Sparkler.” Lavellan raised his eyebrows at Dorian waiting for the mage to respond. Dorian met his eyes and nodded slowly,  
“Very well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so the main plot is probably around 2 chapters away depending on where I split the next one. I originally gave Varric an office and then realised that he would probably never be there if he had one.


	4. The Case of the Cheaeting Husband

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lavellan debates whether to strangle Dorian or just smother him with a pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been half written for a month or two now. Delays due to uni stuff and then death in the family.

“So you want me to what, translate letters? Inform you of how the Magisterum works? I’m quite capable of both I assure you.” Lavellan fought the urge to take a cushion from the sofa he was lounging on and smother Dorian, he pressed it to his own face instead attempting to block out the image of Dorian who was pacing around _his_ apartment. Somehow Varric had convinced him that having Dorian in his apartment for one more night wouldn’t be a problem. That had been two days ago, now the dwarf wasn’t answering his phone. Clearly Varric hadn’t realised that Dorian wasn’t just an unwelcome guest. He was a chatty unwelcome guest. The man was incapable of being quiet, a constant stream of complaints had started only a few minutes after he’d agreed to stay and help. It had continued as they had broken into Dorian’s apartment and salvaged the few books that were either too valuable or too blasphemous to let the Templars have. Plus a dozen more that Dorian had insisted he couldn’t leave behind. Then there had been the questions, none of which Lavellan had felt like answering. Granted the apartment would hardly be silent without Doran’s pestering, the couple that lived below seemed to have started their weekly argument a day early. Still, no one was expecting him to weigh in on whether someone had been making eyes at the new barman – in Lavellan’s humble opinion a _perfectly reasonable_ way to spend the evening. Dorian on the other hand seemed to expect applause after every statement, or at least a reply.

“Could we possibly, just for the next hour, have some quiet?” _Before I am forced to murder you_ , Lavellan heard the quiet creaking of his floor stop, at least the mage had stopped pacing though.

“I only wished to why I am here.”

“If I show you, will you be quiet.” The cushion muffled Lavellan’s words,

“You won’t hear a sound from me for the rest of the night, you have my word.”

 

Lavellan sighed in defeat and lifted a leg to sling himself upright, cushion dropping on the floor.

“Have you heard of the Venatori?” Dorian seemed confused but nodded,

“It was a Tevinter Cult, they’ve gained some political ground recently but don’t have any real majority in the Senate.”

“I have a case, a big one. They’re linked to it somehow. We’ve intercepted mail, recorded conversations but by the time we’ve translated them it’s old news.”

“So you want me to help you solve the case? What is it, embezzlement? A cheating spouse? Hardly surprising, it’s more unusual for Magisters not to be having illicit affairs.” It wasn’t an uncommon reaction. He was a private investigator _of course_ his life was spent taking photos that later featured in court cases. Next would be the joke about how at least he didn’t need to keep his ears to the ground then someone would have a black eye and Cassandra would be talking about using restraint again, as if she was any better.

“It’s complicated. There’s a new type of lyrium which,”

“More potent or less addictive?”

“Red.” Lavellan glared at the files he was sorting through. Interrupting, another of Dorian’s less desirable qualities.  “It’s red. More addictive and honestly the whole thing is a horror show.”

“So you’re taking down a drug ring? Isn’t that what actual law enforcement is for.”

“It’s more complicated than that. You just need to do the translations and give some context.”

“That’s it? I need more information, what am I supposed to be looking for?” Dorian sounded frustrated, digging for information. Lavellan shook his head standing up, he was done.

“Everything. Just translate what you’re given and hand it over.”

“I’m not a trained monkey, if I’m going to be helping you with this I need to know what it is. For all I know you’re eliminating your business rivals!” Dorian’s voice rose through the small room. Lavellan scooped up the files and reached for his coat,

“I have work to do.”

 

 

Lavellan crouched on the fire escape peering across the street into the apartment opposite. As much as he hated it he _did_ have cheating spouses to catch. He had followed the pair from a restaurant to a cheap motel known as the place for a discreet meeting or, to those who had actually visited, the city’s bedbug epicentre. He reached into his pocket for his camera and swore as he found it empty.

“Fenedhis Dorian,” he was moving before he had finished muttering the words. His phone was an option, the camera was decent but not at this distance, not if he wanted the people in the photo be to identifiable. That left the slightly less subtle option of breaking into the apartment and catching them in the act. Definitely less subtle but the client, wife of one Gaspard DuPuis, hadn’t paid him for that. Besides, if he wanted to get paid then he needed proof. And he needed to get paid, especially with Dorian staying around, the mage didn’t seem the type to be happy accepting future favours as payment.

 

Blood was a curious thing, Lavellan had never been squeamish about it, even when it was his own. The amount that had sprayed from the woman’s neck when DuPuis sliced it open though, that was disturbing. What was worse though, even considering the warm sticky red liquid covering Lavellan as a corpse felt o the fool, was the line of blood that was hovering in the air. DuPuis glared at Lavellan,

“You forced my hand. She would have lived if you hadn’t interfered.” The words had barely left DuPuis’s mouth before the man gestured, a fireball flickering from his fingers towards Lavellan. He dived, heat roaring across his arm. Why had no one bothered to mention that DuPuis was a fucking bloodmage. Or even a mage. Granted the research had been somewhat lacking but the email had seemed genuine. And suddenly, the phrase _set-up_ sprung to mind.

 

The dresser didn’t offer much in the way of cover. Lavellan pressed his back against the thin wood and breathed out slowly summoning a barrier around himself. It was fine, he had magic. Sure he was without a staff but he hardly needed one. Another fireball hit his barrier, too powerful. Lavellan felt his grip on the fade slip for a moment before he strengthened the barrier again. He needed to end this. There was too much blood in the room for him to dream of outlasting DuPuis in a fight. A surprise shot on the other hand might stand a change. He looked in the mirror that lay smashed on the floor. DuPuis was drawing a summoning circle in blood. Lavellan dove across to behind the bed and pulled at the fade surrounding the man as he fell. A scream as the forces ripped through the man. Then bloor rained through the room for the second time that night. Lavellan glanced over the bed,

“Well, shit.”

 

Captain Blackwall showed up looking annoyed at usual, bags hung under his eyes betraying that once again the city’s wardens were short staffed and he was working a double shift.

“The building manager called us, said there was an elf that looked like trouble. Guess we should just start asking everyone who calls that in if it’s you.” Lavellan rolled his eyes,

“Wouldn’t help. We all look the same. I called Cassandra, they’ll want to deal with it.”

“You’ll get no argument from me. The mayor’s office is already on my ass about how we’re handling elf suspects.” Lavellan smiled,

“How is Josie? Did you ask her out yet?” Blackwall glared but said nothing. It wasn’t as if his crush wasn’t public knowledge. Besides, it was completely understandable. If there was a problem then you went to Josephine, she would handle it. Whether that meant finding alternate accommodation because a building was suddenly the place for lyrium dealers to congregate or making life difficult for a businessman who didn’t want to pay his employees next month. Granted her way of making it difficult usually involved paperwork, and all kinds of bureaucratic hell rather than a short visit in the night and threats of future torture but it worked and she was incredibly good at it.  

 

Blackwall stood in the doorway glaring between Lavellan and the rest of the room until Cassandra arrived. She took one look at Lavellan, or rather the blood he was soaked in and shook her head,

“No. I am not cleaning up your mess. This is ridiculous.”

“This wasn’t me; the dead guy was a blood mage. I,” Lavellan held up an arm showing the singed remains of his coat sleeve while searching for an excuse, “I accidentally opened the wrong door.” Cassandra made a disgusted noise,

“You expect me to believe that you just happened to stumble on a blood mage across the city from where you live? Why are you even in a motel?”

“I have a friend staying, wanted some peace.”

“Yes, you can tell Dorian the Chantry consider the matter dealt with as long as no more dead mages from Tevinter show up.” Cassandra stepped through the room to look over the bodies,

“This is all the woman’s blood then?”

“Mostly. May be some of his, but I’m uninjured. Thanks for asking.”

“I didn’t.” Cassandra shook her head,

“Just go to headquarters. I’ll get a statement later. There is a reward for capturing a malificarum, I will see you get it.” Lavellan looked at the body he had thrown across the room.

“Capture?” Cassandra glared at him,

“He resisted arrest, his wellbeing is not a priority.”

“Right,” Lavellan heard a siren approach, “I’ll just, go.”

 

Bull, to his credit, didn’t ask when he opened the door to see Lavellan standing in the hallway wearing a half burnt coat covered in dry blood. Not that they hadn’t been in similar positions before, both their jobs had a tendency to get _messy_. This was the first time he’d shown up in the middle of the night at Bull’s door since they had stopped sleeping together though. If Bull was surprised by a bloodied elf appearing at his door with no warning, he didn’t show it. He stood to the side and let Lavellan in,

“I’ll grab you some clothes for after you’ve had a shower. Think Krem left some around here.” Lavellan nodded gratefully kicking off his boots and coat before heading through Bull’s apartment. The pale pink carpet might have hidden a blood stain or two if necessary but Lavellan didn’t want to be the one to put it there. The moan he let out as the hot water hit his body was entirely necessary. He wasn’t squeamish about blood but it had dried and reached the itchy stage as he headed across town to Bull’s apartment. A quick poke around the bathroom, water dripping all over the floor, revealed that Bull did indeed still keep shampoo on hand for his various overnight visitors. Picking out a few other bottles that were running low and needed replacing anyway Lavellan stepped back into the shower and scrubbed.

 

“Turned out the cheating spouse was a blood mage.” Bull laughed and shook his head. Lavellan had spent nearly an hour in the shower, until the hot water ran out and he was forced to confront the possibility of either drying off or freezing as the steam left the room. Now he hunched into the sofa trying not to shiver at the change in temperature. Bull’s apartment was normally cool, though the heating appeared to have been cranked on since Lavellan arrived. It helped a little but compared to the scalding water it might as well have been a snowstorm in the Frostbacks. Not that Bull had noticed, the Qunari seemed impervious to the cold sat wearing oversized sweatpants and nothing else. Bull looked over meeting Lavellan’s gaze and shook his head,

“One oversized hot water bottle right here.” Lavellan shot his eye back to whatever reality show Bull had on the television.

“I’ll be fine in a bit.” He mumbled the reply not daring to look up to see if Bull had heard. There was no reply for a minute only the excites shouts of the television which were tinny through the cheap speakers. Bull’s surround sound had an accident involving several of the Chargers and a beer keg. After a few minutes of adverts echoing through the apartment Bull let out a sigh.

“Get over here. Just because we aren’t,” _together_ , the word hung unspoken for a second. Bull uncharacteristically stumbling over what to call a year of fucking someone at every opportunity while barely speaking except for work. He took a breath and shrugged, “whatever we were anymore doesn’t mean you can’t get a hug when you need it.” Lavellan gave Bull a small smile and shuffled slightly closer to the Qunari. He was almost alarmed to be grabbed and hoisted over to Bull’s lap.

“What, where you shitting snowballs over there? You’re freezing.” Lavellan didn’t disagree, instinctively snuggling closer to Bull, the heat radiating off him.

“Thanks.” Bull shrugged.

“Hey it doesn’t have to be weird.” Lavellan bit back his response that it wouldn’t be if Bull hadn’t made it so but that would have been petty, even if it was true. He tried a different approach,

“It was a set up. Don’t know who by but DuPuis seemed to think someone was after him and apparently he wasn’t married so seems someone wanted one or both of us dead.”

“Think it’s related to Dorian?” Lavellan shrugged,

“Probably not, they were Orlesian. More likely someone I pissed off on a different case.”

“Least you got the bounty I guess.” Lavellan nodded, the fact that said blood mage was dead in several pieces wasn’t part of the paperwork, which was fortunate.

“You crashing here tonight?” Lavellan hesitated then nodded,

“If you don’t mind.”

“Wouldn’t have offered if I did though you might want to let the ‘Vint know you aren’t coming home.”

“He’ll be fine.”

“He called a few hours ago to check you hadn’t died. Got the impression he had called Sera too.” Lavellan reached for Bull’s phone on the floor and handed it to the Qunari to unlock,

“Probably found something else to complain about.” He did rattle off two texts though before curling back up against Bull. Not weird, _sure._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. I have most of the next chapter but given that my mental health isn't great at the minute and I have a dissertation to write along with a lot of other work.  
> Basically, updates will continue, this isn't abandoned but I can't say when it will be up.


End file.
